This Isn't Ohio, Toto
by Rachel13
Summary: Jean, a 13-y-o-girl, has died in a tornado. She is transported to ME to complete what her mother began. Yes, a MarySue (Well, not really) but a very well written one, (not to be concieted) No one likes MS's, neither do I, but oh well. Please R&R Anyways!
1. Intro in Ohio

Jean was standing in front of her mirror. She was tall, with thin blonde hair and blue eyes that were hidden by silver glasses. This isn't a story where the main character is practically a fashion model with flawless skin. I'll tell you that now.  
  
To her self, Jean wasn't much to look at. Her face was dotted with freckles and occasional acne, and her nose was red and shiny. Of course, no one noticed these little details, but Jean sure did.  
  
"Ugh! I can't take it anymore!" Jean whispered furiously, throwing her lip- gloss at the mirror. Thank gosh that her braces had just been removed, or she might have thrown a brick at her reflection.  
  
She shrugged, threw herself on the bed, and basically gave up. How was she going to go to school like this? At least, if she didn't have a person crushing on HER, then at least she had more friends than the so-called "popular" kids.  
  
Jean lugged up herself and dragged her backpack to her sagging shoulders. She guessed that she'd go to school the same way as she always did.  
  
Jean was in the 7th grade, and was 13 years old ever since October. She lived in a small town in Ohio, although it was growing swiftly and kids from larger cities were always coming in. The middle school, which she went to, was the old (very old) elementary school, and the town had already added two more schools to the city since two years ago.  
  
Ohio isn't such a farm place. (Yeah, I've seen it before) Sure, if you were flying in an airplane you wouldn't see the Rockies or anything. It was actually very nice, and there WAS farms. A lot of them. I just don't want you think that Jean is some kind of hillbilly or whatever.  
  
Now, back to the story. Jean slopped off of her bed, and slipped on a pair of sandals. She opened her door, which showed a view of the hallway, breaking off into the other unused bedrooms.  
  
Jean's father had died just three months ago in a devastating car accident when he was on the way to Jean's basketball tournament.  
  
She lived with her mother, whom she hardly ever saw ever since Jean's mother had taken that job. The job was a full-time job at some high-paying real estate company. So since Jean was an only child, most of those rooms were empty or used for storage.  
  
Now, again, back to the story. At least, back to the story if I don't launch into another background story. Going on .....  
  
Jean clattered down the stairs, running her hands down the smooth wooden rail. She jumped off the last few steps, and thudded to the ground. "Ouch," Jean groaned, and slowly gathered her things off of the floor too.  
  
She left a note on her refrigerator; on the nice stationary her mother bought her for exactly this purpose. Jean walked out of the kitchen, and saw a yellow flash go bye the window. Yes, it was .. the bus.  
  
"Ahh!" Jean yelled, and swung the door open hurriedly, and slamming it just as quickly. The bus was at the curb, and it was waiting for the other kids that came to Jean's curb for the bus.  
  
If Jean ever missed the bus, her mother couldn't take her. She was at work.  
  
She whizzed past the maple tree in her front yard, and finally made it to the bus. She gasped to catch her breath, and sat down in the 12th seat.  
  
"Whew. That was close," Jean thought to herself. She looked out the window, and the bus jerked forward.  
  
When Tess, one of Jean's best friends, got on, she joined Jean in the 12th seat. "Hey," Tess said, smiling. Jean noticed her lunch box, and smacked herself on the head.  
  
"I forgot my lunch! Darn," Jean hissed angrily.  
  
"So what? You're favored by all of the lunch ladies; they'll probably give you a free lunch and a free snack or whatever," Tess joked.  
  
"The only reason they favor me is because I say 'please' and 'thank you' to them," Jean replied.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say," Tess said, and laughed.  
  
When they reached their school, a new building just put in, they hopped off of the bus and joined Savannah, who had just jumped off of her own bus.  
  
"Hey, Savannah," Jean said friendlily.  
  
"Hay is for horses," She joked back.  
  
"That is soooo the oldest joke in the book!" Tess also joked.  
  
"No way. It's definitely the chicken in the road thing," Savannah shot back.  
  
"She got you there, Tess," Jean said, as she swung the doors of the school open.  
  
"Humph!" Tess grumped.  
  
"Jean, Tess, Savannah!" Someone yelled, who turned out to be Stephanie, another of their, uh, posse.  
  
"What's up, Steph?" Savannah asked.  
  
"Nm," She said, using aim talk to be funny. Nm, if you don't know, is nothing much. Like you care. Lol.  
  
Enough of the small talk. Back to school.  
  
"See you later," They said in unison and set off to homeroom.  
  
*********Please review! If you don't like it, don't read it, though. But, trust me, it'll be better soon!********************** 


	2. Bad Weather

Please email me with flames or corrections! mayfaery@yahoo.com Do not post rude reviews, please!  
  
Review answers:  
  
100% (Flamer of all Flamers): I hate people like you. Because people like you have nothing better to do than to turn down people that are just trying to do a nice thing for people to read. People like you need a life. I know Mary-Sues aren't original. I really don't care. Please do not review if you are going to be that rude. You aren't my friend. Sorry, but you aren't. Jump off a never ending cliff into a never ending pit. Please.  
  
Katie Bava: I'm not perfect either! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Christina B: Ohio is awesome! Have you ever seen the Drew Carry show? CLEVELAND! CLEVELAND!  
  
Nolaiel the Half-Elven: I'm glad you are honest and not rude like 100%. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Kazlitt: Don't worry! It's coming! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Elf Queen of Shandara: Here's your new chapter! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Jean was in Social Studies: 3rd period. She was sagging in her seat, and she was bored. Jean looked out the window.  
  
It was raining, and in the distance a roll of thunder grumbled. A flash of lighting brightened the dark sky, and the class jumped.  
  
Jean looked up at the whitewashed ceiling. The classroom was very plain, with a cheap white board (newly installed) and an old blackboard. There were hardly any decorations, besides the bulletin boards in the back of the room.  
  
Mr.Gilottiey, a dark haired gray-eyed man, looked out the window suspiciously. "Not very nice weather coming our way, is it?" He stated.  
  
Jean shivered and looked at Leslie, another one of her close friends. She caught her eye and they exchanged glances. They both played softball, and today they had a game.  
  
Jean had known Leslie since kindergarten, and they looked very unalike. Leslie had dark brown hair, compared to Jean's dirty blonde hair. But Leslie and Jean were very personality-alike.  
  
Bridget, yet another of her "sort-of" friends, shivered. She, on the other hand, had perfect skin and bright blonde hair. When she was young, she had lived in Florida, and her home had been destroyed in a hurricane. She always fidgeted during a storm, and Jean felt bad for her. Bridget was also on Leslie and Jean's softball team.  
  
"Well, back to Greece ..." Mr.Gilottiey started again, but after a few minutes was interrupted by a tremendous roll of thunder that shook the room.  
  
Bridget started to cry, and Jean jumped up to get her a tissue. On the way, she gazed out the window. Leftover leaves that made it through the winter blew around and hit the window occasionally.  
  
When Jean had been running toward the bus she hadn't even noticed the weather. She grabbed a couple tissues from the box and ran it over to her friend.  
  
"It's just thunder, Bridget!" Mick, a "popular" kid, said.  
  
"Shut it, Mickleous," Janet, his twin sister, said. She always annoyed him with his full name, and wasn't as popular as him. Of course she was one of Jean's friends.  
  
It's getting hard to keep track of all of Jean's friends, huh? Now you know why "popular" kids are so stuck-up. They're jealous. Don't criticize them, they're just too naïve to know.  
  
"Janet!" Mick hissed at her as the class laughed.  
  
Bridget thankfully took the tissues and wiped up the tears. "Sorry," she whispered sadly.  
  
"Don't be!" Jean said. She smiled and sat down.  
  
"Thank you Jean," Mr.Gilottiey said, and looked down at his book again.  
  
After ten minutes, it started to rain. It rained so hard, that Jean could hardly hear anything.  
  
Bridget raised her hand. "Yes, Bri----" Mr.Gilottiey started, but was soon cut off by what seemed a sheet of rocks hitting the roof of the old school. It was hail.  
  
Bridget couldn't help it: she burst out. So many horrible memories were being delivered back into her small 13-year-old mind. Both of her parents had died there, in Hurricane Taylor, so she was much worse than Jean's case was. Even her brother had been killed, while Jean had no siblings. Bridget lived with her grandmother and grandfather.  
  
Mr.Gilottiey had had enough. Hail, rain, thunder, and lightening! He stopped lessons all together and headed toward the door. The loudspeaker interrupted him, however.  
  
"ALL STUDENTS AND STAFF MUST REPORT TO STORM POSTIONS. THERE IS A TORNADO WARNING, PLEASE DO NOT PANICK! THE PRINCIPAL WILL BE CHECKING YOU IF YOU ARE SAFE, SO DO NOT WORRY! PLEASE REPORT TO STORM POSTIONS!" (I have never been in a tornado at school; so don't hurt me if this is a little immature to be an announcement.)  
  
Bridget started to howl, while Jean rushed over and comforted her. Everyone gaped at the loudspeaker, and Mr.Gilottiey turned a sickly green.  
  
"Come along, students, we must report to tornado position. I'm sure everything is fine, so do not worry!" Mr.Gilottiey said hurriedly.  
  
Just as his sentence ended, the lights went out, and the computers shut down. Bridget stifled a sob, and followed Jean to the end of the single file line leading out.  
  
Mick and his friends were laughing about it. It was just a storm, right? Janet scowled, and ran toward Jean, Bridget, and Leslie (Whom had joined Jean and Bridget a few seconds ago).  
  
The class left the room. Several shivered. They walked out into the hall and closed the door behind them.  
  
"Jean ... Jean .. I'm s-c-c-ared?" Bridget stuttered.  
  
"Don't be!" Jean said rather scared herself, "It's only a storm, I'm sure it's all fine!"  
  
"Yeah, but I don't think we'll be playing our softball game tonight," Leslie joked.  
  
"No time for chat gals," Mr.Gilottiey yelled at them.  
  
They walked by the rusty lockers, and into a little room in between the boys' and girls' restrooms. It was an unused janitor's closet that Mr.Gilottiey used to store papers.  
  
"Storm positions!" Mr.Gilottiey ordered, and the class did the crouch thing.  
  
Bridget was crying non-stop by now, and her friends desperately tried to comfort her. "Our father," Jean began. She was Christian, and she thought prayers always helped.  
  
Once Jean ended, all was silent.  
  
But slowly, slowly, a humming sound was appearing through the silence. It kept getting louder and louder, and Bridget knew this sound, deep inside of her mind.  
  
Jean never really cared about storms. She had never experienced one this bad, so she wasn't really frightened.  
  
The humming soon started to grow into a growl, and Jean suspected that it was the furnace or something.  
  
Thunder rolled continuously throughout the whole experience, and Jean was glad for Bridget that there were no windows in this dark unlighted room.  
  
Growling soon covered up Bridget's sobs, and even Mick was scared of it.  
  
After just a few seconds later, the growl was so loud that Jean's ears hurt. What was that sound? It was like a train!  
  
Bridget clung to her friends like a magnet. Jean was scared. What was happening? She tilted her head to look at Mr.Gilottiey. He was in the same position as her, and his face was so pale that it seemed to glow. His bottom lip was trembling.  
  
All sound was engulfed in the growl that was more like a million jet planes.  
  
Then it happened.  
  
************ I know, no one likes Mary-Sues! But still, I like this story. Please review, and remember, DO NOT REVIEW OR READ ANYMORE IF YOU DO NOT LIKE IT! More soon! ******************************************** 


	3. Bridget's Death

I'm back! Thanx for waiting, but I'm sure it wasn't patiently!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*  
  
The last thing that Bridget saw, the last thing that she heard before darkness engulfed her was Jean's face. Then something happened so suddenly that her last thought was cut short, which was, "Mom, I'm coming." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
It was on the news, and it was in the papers. A tornado had ripped through the middle school as if it were made of Styrofoam, not sturdy golden bricks. Here was one news report:  
  
A woman with incredibly big hair (had to throw that joke in, sorry) was in front of the camera, standing in the ruins of what used to be the middle school. "Yesterday a tornado that was labeled F-4 ripped through the state of Ohio yesterday, demolishing almost 160 miles of cities, farms, and families. The death report has not been taken, and you will see that behind me investigators are inspecting the ruins of this Middle School."  
  
"Sir," She asked a burly man standing next to her, that was obviously an investigator. "Have you found any survivors in this school yet?"  
  
"Not yet, and boy it has been a trouble to control the parents! Sobbing and crying, one even shot a policeman in order to get in the zone." He replied.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*  
  
Jean woke up lying next to a pond, and saw that she had been drenched in various types of soil and mud. Where was she? A huge confusion struck her, and a vital question appeared in her mind: Who was she?  
  
Jean, shaking furiously, stood up after several attempts. She looked at her surroundings. She was next to a very large pond, nearly a lake, and it was very cold out. She could see trees surrounding her, and snow covering the ground. Hadn't it been summer yesterday? How did she know what summer was?  
  
Beyond the pond she could see the trees end. The sun was out, breaking in between the clouds. Jean, who didn't know her name was Jean, began to walk, not knowing where she was going.  
  
At that she heard a voice in her head, which confused her even greater. b You have not been brought here by accident b  
  
Where did that come from? No one was even near her; the woods were empty! She began to panic, and in her hurry slid on a great slide of mud into the pond. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" She yelled, and her yell was cut short as her head was submerged in the murky water.  
Not knowing where she was, who she was, what she was, and how she knew certain things caused the fact that she did not remember how to swim, and she quickly sank to the bottom and stuck there.  
  
b Open your eyes b  
  
What did that mean, she thought. Open your eyes? What are eyes? How do you open them? Eventually, after a very short time, maybe less than a second, she remembered how to open her eyes and did.  
  
What she saw when she opened her eyes made no sense. She saw that she was underwater, but yet when she breathed in, she did not suck in dirty water but clean, fresh air. Jean saw many people, and that at least she could remember; she knew what people were. The odd thing was that the people were dressed in a conformed fashion, as if emulating each other. They were all dressed in black.  
  
Her vision converted to another scene, though still including the black-dressed people. She saw that many people had water running down their faces. Jean wondered why. Soon she noticed that she was looking at a long slim box, colored white, being lowered into a deep, maybe 5-6 feet deep, hole. Jean became confused. I mean more than she already was.  
  
Why would someone lower something into a hole and wear black clothes? Why was there water running down their faces? Then Jean noticed the writing that someone had inscribed in the white box. She didn't know how she could understand the letters, but she began to read. And the letters said:  
  
A storm of death has reached this family, and now the last has come to pass. Here Bridget Norrings lies, and let her soul be taken above all darkness and the mourners keep her memory close to their hearts.  
  
b Let you remember b  
  
Suddenly Jean realized everything. Who she was, what she was, but the question of where she was went unanswered. Then she remembered what she was looking at. Bridget Norrings was dead. How?  
  
Jean then thought of the tornado and gasped. No! Not Bridget! Not her! She couldn't have! What about Lesley? And Stephanie? And Tess, and Savannah and---and everyone! What has happened to them? Jean thought.  
  
Jean suddenly stopped. What about her? Was she dead? Why wasn't she dead, if she was alive? Was this heaven? No. How could it be heaven? Maybe hell? No. Then what?  
  
She realized with a start, eventually, that she was underwater again. The vision of Bridget's funeral disappeared, and she could no longer breath in the muddy pond. Jean began to swim upward, but that soon failed as she realized she was stuck in the muddiness of the pond.  
  
She struggled wildly to break free, but nothing helped. Great, she thought almost comically, I escape death by tornado only to drown! I don't even know where I'm drowning!  
  
Just as all hope began to fade, she felt a hand grip her shoulder, and she was pulled from the water. Jean began to slip in and out of consciousness, until the last that she saw was a blurry shape of a face.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"We've only found seven bodies so far, all dead," the investigator said. "On the other hand, we've only found one survivor, a girl named Leslie Mains, who is in critical condition. Apparently she was in such a position that a wall fell nearly on top of her, but instead acted as a shield against the storm."  
  
The reporter looked shocked, and said, "Do you think we could get some footage of this young woman?"  
  
"Maybe, but we just got her out of the rubble an hour ago. I think you should wait," The investigator advised. "She is, in fact, the only survivor so far. They're having a funeral for one of the girls tomorrow, and Leslie might be there. You can see her there." Later on her mumbled to himself, Leslie's family is going to sue me for telling that ugly reporter that she's going to be at that poor girl's funeral. * sigh *  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jean woke up, and found that she was not alone. There was a man sitting next to her. He did not notice that she was awake, so she spoke. "Who are you?"  
  
"I am named Gelmir," He said, and stood and bowed. Gelmir? Jean thought. Who the heck would hate their son so much to call him that?  
  
"Um, I'm Jean," She said. Jean looked around for a moment before Gelmir spoke again. She was out of the pond, right next to it still. She had no idea how she had gotten out of that forsaken large puddle.  
  
"No, you are not," Gelmir said, and laughed.  
  
"Um, yes I am. My parents named me that," Jean said. She was confused.  
  
"I thought you would not remember. Your name is Alateriel Oronra. And you are my daughter," Gelmir said, smiling at her confused look.  
  
"My father is dead, and you are not my mom," Jean said. Alateriel? What? She thought. Is this guy nuts?  
  
"Those were merely pawns, merely fosters," Gelmir, not making Jean any less confused.  
  
Jean just sat there, thinking that this guy fell off of his rocker. Geez, this guy sounded more nuts than the Go Yaffa! Commercials woman. * In case you don't know what the Go Yaffa woman is, she sells a stupid product and says Go Yaffa like a drunk chimpanzee *  
  
"How could they be my foster parents?" Jean asked. "We have birth records! I had to do a DNA test once at an airport, and we have matching DNA!" Gelmir obviously did not know what the heck DNA was, but he basically understood what she meant.  
  
"Calm, and I shall tell you what you must need to know," Gelmir said. He took a deep breath, and Jean looked at him. Jean didn't look anything like Gelmir. He had long, blonde hair and deep blue eyes. There were no blemishes on his skin.  
  
"Years ago, to this day, we, our people," He said, "Were raided by orcs. ---Jean found orcs familiar but could not recall it at the moment---- as we left battle. Our arrows were spent, our swords lost, so we had no chance. All would die. I escaped into the trees, desperately trying to save Nevhen. Your mother. I will not tell you the rest, unless you desire me to."  
  
"What else am I going to do today?" Jean asked, wondering if she should start calling herself Alateriel. Gelmir steadied himself, and brushed his hair behind his ear. Then Jean noticed that his ears were not normal, but pointed.  
  
"Yah!" She said. And Gelmir looked confused. "Y-Y-your ears! They're pointy!"  
  
"Yes, that is normal for me. Not for a man. For I am an elf. And if you will listen to the rest of my story you will learn that you are an elf too, though you do not look one. Yet," Gelmir said.  
  
"Go on, then," Jean said, and did not ask why this guy just called her an elf.  
  
"When I failed to say Nevhen, who had you in her arms, the orcs took her and you prisoner. They were to take the prisoners to Southern Mirkwood, and "interrogate" them," he said, remembering the painful memories. "I followed, not daring to risk myself, for I believed that I could still rescue you."  
  
When the orcs reached their destination, they bound the prisoners, and put each in line. They were going to turn you, after a painful questionnaire, into orcs. Because, that is what orcs are, mutilated elves, tortured so much that they come to look like goblins. I snuck in, and just before Nevhen and you were to be taken, she preformed the Tatya (English: Restart) ritual, which sent you into the future, reborn into a new body, to return once you came of the appropriate age. Few elves perform this ceremony, because usually once the elf comes back, he or she does not remember who he or she used to be, and does not look it either."  
  
"What happened to Nevhen?" Jean asked, not thinking about anything else he had said.  
  
"She is dead. She died an orc, killed by the elven arrows of Northern Mirkwood," He replied grimly, as if proving he could control his tears.  
  
"Did you get revenge on whoever shot the arrow?" She asked.  
  
"No. I shot the arrow, and I sent her to peace," Gelmir said.  
  
"Now wait a sec. Did you say orcs?" Jean asked, remembering suddenly.  
  
"Yes," He said.  
  
"Did you say Mirkwood?" Jean asked.  
  
"Yes," Gelmir said, confused.  
  
"Are you--- are you telling me that we're in Mid---Middle Earth," Jean said, hoping the answer was no.  
  
"Yes," Gelmir said. He stood, and pulled her up with him.  
  
"Wait, that can't be true. It's just a book!" Jean said.  
  
"What's just a book?" Gelmir asked.  
  
"The Lord of the Rings! Frodo isn't real! Mirkwood isn't real! You aren't real! This can't be real!" Jean yelped.  
  
"Why can this not be real? Are you not standing here with me? If this were some sort of dream world, would you have not woken up by now?" Gelmir said.  
  
"No, you don't understand! The Lord of the Rings is a BOOK! A BOOK! Some book written by an old guy who's dead now! (Author's note: No offense against the genius who is J.R.R. Tolkien * bows * ) " Jean yelled.  
  
Gelmir did not answer, for he did not know what she was talking about. Was it some part of the ritual? He did not know. Gelmir picked up Jean's glasses, which he had found at the bottom of the pond. "These are yours, but I do not know their use."  
  
"They're glasses, I use them to see," Jean said, but even as she put them on she realized she didn't need them. "Huh?" She set her glasses down.  
  
"You are already changing, Alateriel. You shall be elven soon enough. Your face is clearing of the odd pocks, and your hair is growing," Gelmir said, and waved his hand toward the pond.  
  
Jean scrambled to the edge, and looked at her reflection. Her face was the same, but her hair was longer, and blonder. All of her acne was disappearing. And the thing she noticed the most was the glow starting to grow inside of her, like an unseen light. She looked at her ears. They were pointy. She still looked relatively the same, however.  
  
"What's going on?" Jean asked slowly.  
  
Gelmir merely cocked his head and glared at the setting sun. "We must go back to the castle." He took Jean's hand and led her to the edge of the pond, and from there she saw a cave, surrounded by dark trees. She asked no more questions that were left unanswered until the reached the cave.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~**~~*  
  
More soon! This is 5 ¼ pages long, so be happy! It took me forever to write, * Actually I did it on and off over a period of 6 months *  
  
PLEASE REVIEW! 


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